


Comfort

by Khylara



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21690223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: Slightly for 12/16 Raw Summary: Mikey & Peter comfort eachother after Mikey's run-in withTest.
Relationships: Michael Cole/Tazz
Kudos: 7





	Comfort

Title: Comfort  
Author: Khylara  
Fandom/Couple: WWF M. Cole/Tazz(Peter)  
Rating: R for m/m afffection  
Spoilers: Slightly for 12/16 Raw  
Summary: Mikey & Peter comfort eachother after Mikey's run-in with  
Test.  
Comments: Although I did write the fix-it for this Raw, the image of  
Mikey curled up by the fence set (and the look on his face just  
before Test pushed him down) wouldn't leave me alone. This is the  
result.  
  
***************  
  
Comfort  
-Khylara  
  
It was supposed to be a simple promo. Not even ten minutes. I'd go on, interview Test, he'd rant for a bit and that would be that. Job done and I could go back to the hotel with Peter. Granted, it wouldn't be for the celebration we had been hoping for; he had gotten  
screwed out of the European championship and we both knew it. But there was always another day; he'd get another shot at the belt. He was too good not to.  
  
And I admit to being preoccupied during the promo. It was Test, after all; he's hard to pay attention to on a good day. My mind was on Peter and how he was doing, how disapointed he was and how I could alleviate that. It definitely wasn't on my job, so I never saw it coming. Never even guessed.  
  
Test's proclamation that he could do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted. The menacing leer. The threats. Those large hands in my face, pushing me into the steel fence, knocking me down...like Austin did...  
  
Again. It was happening again and I couldn't stop it. Couldn't yell for help. Couldn't do anything except cower by the fence, hands up to protect my face, praying that he'd stop. I'd do anything if he'd just stop, say anything he wanted. Just so long as he didn't hurt me any more. Not any more...not again...  
  
"Hey! Get the fuck away from him!"  
  
A familiar, beloved voice coming closer, driving away those fists before they could do any more damage. Then a hand touched my shoulder and I flinched away before I realized who it was.  
  
Peter.  
  
"Mikey...babe, it's okay. It's me." He eased me into a sitting position, kneeling in front of me. Very gently he put his hands over mine, bringing them down so he could see the harm that had been done. "Are you all right? Did he hurt you?" He cupped my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Talk to me, Mikey. Did that prick hurt you?"  
  
I couldn't answer him; I was so petrified I had lost my voice. One look into my lover's dark eyes and I lost it. Shaking, choking on sobs, I fell into his arms, clinging to him as I buried my face in his broad shoulder. He was still in his ring gear, hadn't had a chance to clean up yet and I could smell sweat, cologne, his own  
natural musk - safe. Peter smelled safe.  
  
I was hysterical and I didn't care. I'd never been so scared...  
  
That wasn't true. I had been once before.  
  
This time, though, Peter was here to wrap strong arms around me. "It's okay, Mikey. He's gone," he murmurred into my ear, burying a kiss in my hair, rubbing my back in an effort to calm me down. "Shh, baby. it's okay. He won't come near you again, I  
promise. Shh, now. I'm here. I'm right here."  
  
I only heard half of whatever he was saying, his husky voice filtering through my sobs, relaxing me, calming me down little by little. His arms have always been my safe house, my comfort and they were even more so now. I couldn't do anything except cling to him, the terror slowly leaving me as I let myself be rocked in those strong arms.  
  
More footsteps running toward us. Someone put a hand on my back and I nearly jumped out of my skin, whimpering fearfully. Who was this new threat?  
  
It was a friend. "Mikey, it's okay," Peter said soothingly. "It's Dwayne."  
  
Dwayne Johnson. The Rock. I let myself relax a little. With both of them nearby, Test wouldn't dare come back.  
  
"I saw what that jackass did on the monitor," I heard him explain. "Is he okay?"  
  
"Not sure. He's too upset." Peter turned back to me, nuzzling my ear. "Mikey baby, you gotta calm down now, okay? You're gonna make yourself sick if you don't. Shh, now." He kissed me again. "You're safe, now, baby. I swear you're safe."  
  
Slowly, I managed to get a hold of myself, choking down my terror by sheer force of will. I drew away enough to swipe at my eyes, keeping my head down. "I'm okay," I managed to get out, my heart still  
pounding, my voice still shaking. "It's okay, Peter. He didn't...he didn't really have a chance to...to hurt me too badly."  
  
He frowned. "We'll get the on call doc to look at you anyway. Just to make sure."  
  
I didn't want to argue, didn't have the strength to fight. I nodded wearily and both he and Dwayne helped me to my feet. My knees buckled and I clung to Peter for support as the two men began to lead  
me down the hall. I wasn't even listening to Peter's soft encouragements or Dwayne's darkly veiled threats about taking care of Test the first chance he got. I was still shaking, still upset. Still frightened.  
  
I wondered if I would ever be calm again.  
  
***************  
  
Later that night, in our hotel room, I sat on the bed cradling a glass of Jack Daniels from Peter's medicinal can't-get-to-sleep-any-other-way-some-nights stash. He had insisted, saying that a couple slugs would do me good. I had doubted him at the time, but after a  
sip or two I had to admit that it was helping to settle my ragged nerves.  
  
I looked up as the bathroom door opened and Peter came out, wrapped in a robe and rubbing a towel over his head. "How're you doing, babe?" he asked, concerned.  
  
Shrugging, I indicated the half-full glass. "Okay, I guess. Physically, anyway." The doctor had cleared me; Test had given me some minor bruises, nothing serious.  
  
Peter caught the reference. "And everything else?" he prompted gently.  
  
I shook my head. "I should've done something," I murmurred, turning the glass around in my hand. "Fought back. Something."  
  
He took the glass out of my hand and sat down next to me. "Mikey, he's got 10 inches and about 150 pounds on you," he said quietly, taking my hand. "What could you do?"  
  
"Something. Anything." I said. "Anything but curl up by that fence scared out of my head and crying like a baby."  
  
"You had every right to," he countered firmly. "You had no idea what he was gonna do, if I was gonna come, if he was gonna take it further and put you in the hospital like Austin did." His fingers caressed  
mine. "You had every right to be scared."  
  
"You wouldn't have been," I pointed out, looking away.  
  
"Maybe not, but other things scare me more." There was a pause. "Things like seeing you lying there hurt."  
  
I turned back to see the haunted look in his eyes. "I'm okay," I said quickly, wanting to reassure him. Anything to get that look out of those beautiful brown eyes. "You heard the doctor. It's just a few bruises."  
  
"But it wasn't that before," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And I should've...I promised you I'd be there."  
  
So that was it. "You can't always be," I said, squeezing his hand. "It's impossible. I know that, and I don't expect you to." I forced a smile. "I'm a grown man. Most of the time I can take care of myself."  
  
He smiled as well. "I know you can, and I'm trying not to...you know...breathe down your neck or anything. It's just...tonight...seeing you lying there..."  
  
"I know." I looked down at our clasped hands. "You think I don't get the same way every time you step into that ring? Your matches give me a heart attack sometimes."  
  
Peter's eyes widened. "I didn't even think of that," he confessed sheepishly. "I'm sorry, babe." Leaning over, he brushed his free hand over my cheek. "I'll try to be more careful, okay?"  
  
I leaned into the touch. "I will, too. Let Coach ad Kevin do the interviews for awhile. I'm going to stay put behind the announcer's table." I suddenly smiled. "By the way, thanks."  
  
A confused look crossed his face. "For what?"  
  
"Putting up with me comes to mind," I said, still smiling, trying to make a little joke. "And for just...being here...you know?"  
  
What I was trying to say didn't come out right, but he seemed to understand. "Where else would I be?" he asked, sliding his arms around my waist. "I love you."  
  
I would my arms around his neck, those three little words sending a warm feeling through me. "I love you, too," I said softly before pulling him into a kiss.  
  
We didn't make love that night; Peter was too afraid of hurting me in spite of my reassurrances and I was too drained both physically and emotionally. We simply cuddled together, my head resting on his broad  
chest so I could hear his heartbeat and his hand smoothing my hair back. We drifted off to sleep like that, finding comfort in the one sure place we both knew we could.  
  
In each other's arms.


End file.
